


Little Ghost

by Lokuricas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Little Ghost, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:19:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokuricas/pseuds/Lokuricas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean just wanted to help out the squatter kid up the road.<br/>He knew he was habouring a secret, because he wouldn't be squatting otherwise.<br/>But Dean really wasn't expecting this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be updated weekly.  
> Every tuesday to be precise.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

_Little ghost, little ghost  
what I’m scared of the most  
won’t you scare me up a little bit of love?_

Dean Winchester was a normal, apple pie, sorta guy, with a normal, apple pie sorta life and a normal apple pie, sorta family. He had just entered in to his final year of High School and he was working hard to get the grades he needed for a semi-decent college so he could get a semi-decent job and live a semi-decent life. In addition to that, he spent his Saturday and Sunday mornings working at his Uncle Bobby’s garage to bring a little extra income to the house and pay off his car. He also spent his Saturday and Sunday afternoons as a physics tutor for freshmen.   
  
He lived with his mom, Mary, his dad, John and his little brother, Sam (or Sammy, as Dean preferred to call him, much to Sam’s dismay.) They lived a nice life, on an okay street, with nice houses; par one the house on the end which was empty, derelict and secluded. Dean often wondered about the housed on the end, and his mom once told him that a family used to live there, but one day, they just upped and left and never looked back but refused to ever put the house up for sale. Or so a neighbour told his mom, but you know how gossip is.  
  
Yeah, Dean was just a normal, apple pie sorta guy. But that changed on October 12th 2010.  
  
*** _  
  
_Dean was having a shitty day. His mom and dad had had a stupid argument, which resulted in their dad leaving for work early and his mom being in pissy mood all morning and snapping at Sam for something that wasn’t his fault. In fact, it was her fault.  
  
Dean made Sam get in the car after that and told his mom to quit it with the attitude before she upset more people. Dean seriously felt like the parent sometimes. He ended up taking Sam for breakfast before school, to cheer him up. He bought him pancakes and bacon. The breakfast of kings.  
  
The day had just gone downhill since then, his math teacher had bitched at him for getting _one_ shitty grade in a pop quiz, Chuck, his friend, had come into English stoned and made it blindingly obvious _and_ Dean had been called into the principal’s office to discuss Sam’s consistent bad behaviour. Dean didn’t know what it was with the kid, he was mega smart, got awesome grades without even trying, but he just got restless in class, pissed around and bad-mouthed the teacher or just straight-up walked out the class room in the middle of the lesson for no other reason than he was bored.   
  
The meeting with their principle had been quite a weird one really. It had ended with Mr Milton saying “I see so much of myself in Sam, y’know?” Dean had raised his eyebrow. “And so much of my brother in you.”  
  
“You have an older brother?” Dean asked. Mr Milton laughed.  
  
“No, I had a younger brother, but he acted like the older one all the time. I was in trouble a lot when I was younger, and my brother tried his damnedest to keep me in line.” Mr Milton laughed and shook his head.  
  
“Had?”  
  
“He died a while back, it was what made me change my act really,” Mr Milton looked down sadly.  
  
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Dean had told him genuinely. He couldn’t even imagine losing Sammy.  
  
“It was a long time ago,” he shook his head again. “Anyway, Sam is a bright pupil, and he’ll do very well in the future, but he can’t carry on behaving this way.” The conversation had gone back to normal after that, they had discussed the best way to handle it, and then Dean was off. Dean had always liked Mr Milton. He was a good guy, not too strict, very lenient with him and Sam, and now, Dean guessed he knew why.  
  
Dean was more than ready for the day to be over so he could just go home and sleep away his foul mood. He was just glad he’d finished his final lesson.  
  
Dean sat by the car waiting for Sam, who came out just a few minutes after himself, being pursued by a hyperactive-looking blonde girl with pigtail. Sam was pulling a face of pleading at Dean, who pointedly looked in the other direction, smirking to himself.  
  
Sam escaped the girl about two minutes later, smiling politely, if slightly strained, and waving at the girl, moving ever closer to Dean. “Dude,” Sam muttered as he got within earshot of Dean, “you couldn’t have helped me out?” Dean felt himself perk up slightly. If anyone could make him feel better by just being alive, it was Sam.   
  
“Hell no,” he smirked, “wouldn’t want to ruin Blondie’s fun, would I?”  
  
“Becky, Dean.”  
  
“Oh, Becky is it?” Dean waggled his eyebrows and Sam just groaned as he climbed into the car and slung his backpack in to the back seat.  
  
“Just take me home, Dean,” Sam muttered at him, running his hand through his hair and tugging on it toward the tips, something which Dean recognised as a nervous habit. Sam kept shooting him quick glances, which made Dean realize that Sam thought he was in trouble, which meant he knew Dean had been called to see the principle on his behalf.  
  
“You ain’t gunna be in any trouble from me, Sammy,” Dean told him, shrugging his shoulders. “But you can’t keep up with this attitude. You’re gunna get yourself in serious trouble,” Sam had the good sense to duck his head and look ashamed.  
  
“I can’t help it, Dean,” he mumbled at his feet. “Everyone is my classes are just really stupid. I feel like I’m a cow being forced into a field of horses.” Dean shot his a look that was a mix between amusement and confusion.  
  
“I’m not even sure what that means,” Dean laughed a little, “but I’m serious man, clean up your act. I know you get bored, but I just barely convinced Mr Milton not to call Mom and Dad. But he pretty much promised he won’t give you the benefit of doubt next time. Just, try stay outta trouble.” Sam nodded at him.  
  
“Okay, thanks Dean.”  
  
The drive home after that was quieter than usual apart from a bit of mindless chitchat about nothing in particular. Dean knew Sam was hoping their parents had made up just as well as he was, because John and Mary both had tempers and stubbornness that was not to be reckoned with and neither of them wanted to go home to a silent house with Mary in one room and John in the other.  
  
While they were the most loved-up couple Dean had ever encountered, when they argued, rare as it was, they spared no expenses and could go on for days and days.  
  
But as luck would have it, when they walked into the kitchen Mary and John were sat at the table flicking flour at each other, which Dean and Sam had come to recognised as their own form of apology. Dean exhaled in relief.  
  
“Hey, you made up!” Sam smiled at them, while he grabbed two cans of coke from the fridge and threw one to Dean. Mary smiled at him.  
  
“We sure did,” she winked, as she flicked yet more flour at John who seemed to be drenched in it. “And, um, I’m sorry for shouting at you this morning, sweetie. It wasn’t your fault. You too, Dean,” she addressed him, looking somewhat shame-faced. John took this chance to throw a handful of flour at her, and watched her screeched loudly, much to Sam, Dean and John’s amusement. She shook herself down looking slightly ruffled.  
  
“You lot are all just a… big… bunch of… _boys!_ ” She said – as some form of ridiculous insult – before she burst into laughter.  
  
When they all eventually calmed down, Dean looked at his parents slyly. “Y’know what’d be a better apology? Pizza from Jamie’s,” Mary attempted to flick flour at Dean, who dodged out of the way, but ended up colliding with the kitchen cabinet, which he swore just materialized out of fucking nowhere. Mary raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
“Dean, I don’t know if you knew this, but there’s a cabinet there,” Dean pulled a tongue as he rubbed his side, as if trying to rub away the pain and forming bruise.  
  
John shook his head at him, while he sniggered slightly and handed him $20 from his wallet and said “go and buy the damn pizza before you hurt yourself again, boy.” Dean pulled a bitch face that rivalled Sam’s.   
  
“Hey!” Dean began to protest, but John was already pushing him out of the door. He considered driving but it was a nice day and the sun was setting in that kind of way that made Dean feel inexplicably warm inside.  
  
He began walking down his street and his eyes were instantly drawn to the house on the end that had never been put up for sale, despite the owners moving out just as Dean was born. It had always creeped him out. It was so contrasting to all the other houses in the area. So dark and dirty. Dean was staring at the house cautiously, like it was going pounce on him, like he always did. As he walked by, he didn’t expect to see a kid, about his age, with dark, messy, sex hair walk past the window with a face like absolute thunder. Dean thought he’d imagined him until literally three seconds later he walked past the window again, looking like how he was shouting at someone.  
  
Dean didn’t recognise the kid. He’s never seen him at school – which in itself was strange because they lived in a small town and it would be a huge effort to go to any high school other than Newmans High – or around town, or even on this street. Dean shrugged it off. Whoever the kid was, he figured it was shit all to do with him.  
  
The kid didn’t enter his head again until a few days later.  
  
*** _  
  
_It was 6:32pm and Dean had just finished tutoring the final freshman of the night – Meg Masters, smart enough but had a huge inability to listen to anyone other than herself – and he was walking back to his place because his Dad’s car had broke down and he was in serious need of one today, so Dean had offered his on with the conditional that she came back the same way she went out. John had swore up and down that he’d never do anything to hurt a ’67 Impala, Mary had laughed and said he was just like his dad.  
  
Dean wanted to walk the long way round; it was that point in the year where it just starting to get dark early and Dean liked how the sky looked. All fire-y and shit, oranges and red all mixing together, it was pretty and it reminded him of when he, Sammy and their dad would go camping and roast marshmallows. Not that Dean would ever say that out loud.  
  
He glanced at the house again and was momentarily shocked to see the dark-haired kid in the top left window, staring out to the street, holding his face in his hands with a dreamy look in his eyes. It was more like he was looking through things, rather than seeing them. Dean looked behind him to see if the kid was actually looking at something, but there was nothing of interest in his eyeline and by the time Dean looked back, the kid was gone.  
  
Dean didn't stop thinking about him until he got home, wondering why the kid was there, why he wasn't in school and why this was the first time Dean had seem him. Maybe he was a squatter. Probably wouldn't be the first in that house and it certainly wouldn't be the last.  
  
He let himself into the house, quietly, "Sammy?" He called out, not expecting to get an answer.  
  
"Kitchen!" Dean quirked an eyebrow at no-one in particular. Sam was normally out with their mom on Sundays. He walked in that direction, entering just in time to see a cute dark-haired girl packing up some school stuff. Dean looked at Sam questioningly. He shrugged nonchalantly "Ruby needed some help," he told him, but they both looked slightly flushed and Dean couldn't help but notice Sam's hair was slightly more mussed than usual.  
  
"Right. Homework. Okay," Dean smiled at the girl as she walked out of the room with Sam, to the front door. He angled himself so he could see the pair at the door way, catching Sam peck Ruby on the cheek.  
  
When he re-entered the kitchen, Dean was smirking at him mirthfully.  
  
"Oh-ho-ho, Sammy, you sly dog," Dean teased him cheerfully. Sam blushed, ducking his head.  
  
"Shut up, Dean!" And unlucky for him, his voice decided to crack as he said "Dean" which had him literally cackling at Sam.  
  
"Sammy, I don't wanna alarm you, but your puberty's showing," Dean poked him in the stomach and Sam flipped him off.  
  
"Oh, bite me, man.”  
  
“I’ll leave that to Ruby,” Dean winked, making Sam groan loudly and blush. He wrapped his arm around him and pulled him into his side, tightly. “Oh, my little Sammy’s growing up!” Dean ruffled his hair, much to Sam’s dismay, and released him.  
  
“Can you not?” Sam asked – sounding very much like a prepubescent girl – while he tried to smooth his hair back into place. Dean just pulled a tongue at him as he grabbed a coke from the fridge. He cracked it open and leant back on the fridge door to shut it.  
  
“So, do mom and dad know?” He asked, watching Sam put away his home work sheets. He saw Sam shake his head.  
  
“Can you not tell them? I want to do it,” Sam turned to look at Dean, who in return raised his eyebrow.  
  
“Sure man,” he shrugged, “ain’t really my business anyway.” Sam smiled at him thankfully. Dean didn’t know why, because it really wasn’t his business.  
  
He was about to walk out of the kitchen when the kid in the house on the end came into his head. He looked over at Sam, who was currently boiling the kettle and tearing open a packet of noodles with his teeth – he ate more than Dean did, with the excuse of “I’m a growing boy” – Dean wondered if Sam had seen the kid, or knew anything about him.   
  
“Hey,” he got Sam’s attention at comically timed moment as he froze in the position of a half open packet hanging out of his mouth, one hand holding a pan and the other holding a bag of peas. Dean just stared at him until Sam realized how he must have looked and dropped the noodles into the pan and put everything on the counter.  
  
“Yeah?” And if Sam was just going to pretend he hadn’t just froze in the most ridiculous position ever, than so was Dean.  
  
“Have you seen the kid in the house on the end?” Sam shot him a baffled look, all lowered eyebrows and kinda pouty lips.  
  
“The empty house? The dirty one?” Dean nodded at him and Sam shook his head. “Nope, I haven’t seen no one in there,” he shrugged at Dean. “A squatter? Probably not the first.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, but he looks way to young.”  
  
“Not really our business though, right?” Sam shrugged again.  
  
Dean thought he sounded a bit blunt, but he was right, it wasn’t their business. Nor was it anyone else’s. But that didn’t stop the boy plaguing Dean’s thoughts and it certainly didn’t stop Dean from going into big brother mode and worrying about whether he had food, or a proper bed or any drinks.  
  
***  
  
Dean ended up dreaming about him that night and he woke up shaking. He’d dreamt of the kid leaning against the wall, just fading away to nothing, starting out healthy then steadily growing skinnier and skinnier until he was just a skeleton, covered in cobwebs. It was terrifying and after that, Dean made sure to drive or walk past the house every day, just to make sure he could see the kid.  
  
Most days he did. He’d see him ambling past the windows, sometimes laughing, sometimes crying, sometime shouting, sometimes talking and sometimes just staring.  
  
About a week after this started, Dean discovered he had a good view of the house on the end’s garden from the roof of his house. He found this out when he couldn’t sleep, and with it being around 2am he didn’t want to wake anyone, so he scrambled through his window and onto the roof for a smoke, he looked over to the left, only to see the kid in the backyard, staring up at the sky, looking kinda blurry. If Dean squinted, he could see the kids fists were balled tightly and he looked seriously frustrated. Dean nearly fell off the roof when the kid shouted “Oh fuck you!” outta nowhere and stormed out of view.  
  
It was possibly about three weeks later when Dean starts to worry about the kid. He hasn’t seen him in a few days. He hasn’t walked past his window at all. He hasn’t been in his backyard. Not that Dean spent a couple of hours on the roof in the freezing cold looking for him, because he totally didn’t. Except for the fact that he totally did.  
  
Dean was just worried, and that wasn’t weird, right? Say the kid had hurt himself and couldn’t move and Dean was the only one who knew he was there. Say the kid hadn’t been eating and he was too weak to move. Say he was epileptic or something…  
  
It was thinking like this that made Dean’s decision for him.   
  
He’d just go into the house and make sure the kid was okay.  
  
That’s all. Not creepy. Not creepy at all.  
  
***  
 _  
_Dean decided to talk to his friends about the kid before he put his plan into action. He was sat at a table in the cafeteria with Jo, Chuck and Ash, who were currently discussing Ash actually cutting his hair in to a style that wasn’t shocking terrible. His argument for the mullet was “business in the front, party in the back,” which, in Jo’s book was not a good enough excuse, because his counter-argument was simply “Billy Rae Cyrus.” Chuck just leant back and watched with a vague look of amusement on his face, but Dean wasn’t sure if that was because he was stoned again, or because the current conversation tickled him.  
  
“So,” Dean cut in, “I think there’s a squatter in the house at the end of my road,” and apparently it was a badly timed comment because Ash had just take a bite of his burger and ended up inhaling it and choking.  
  
After they managed to clear his throat (it was a team effort) Ash wheezed out “The old Novak place?” he asked, Dean shrugged then nodded, the name sounded familiar, so he assumed yes. “Man that place creeps me out.”  
  
“You creep everyone out,” Jo poked Ash in the stomach.  
  
“Your face creeps everyone out,” he shot back; she poked her tongue at him. Dean looked between his friends sighing. They couldn’t hold a conversation for more than two seconds without insulting each other, but hey, that’s just the way it was.  
  
“Yeah, okay. Anyway, so this squatter kid-“  
  
“How do you know he’s a squatter?” Chuck cut him off.  
  
“I don’t, I’m just assuming. I don’t reckon anyone would want to live in that house though,” Dean shrugged idly, “anyway, I normally see him when I drive past the house, but I haven’t seen him in a few days and…” Dean began to trail off when Jo gave him a funny look.  
  
“Dean, have you gone all big brother on this guy?” She asked him. Dean looked down, blushing slightly. Big Brother Dean was kinda over protective and constantly worried about everything. It was generally only Sam that brought this out in him and occasionally Jo when she got a new boyfriend who Dean didn’t approve of.  
  
“Um… maybe…” She shook her head at him.  
  
“Stay outta of it, Dean. The kid’s probably already left town. That’s probably why you haven’t seen him,” Jo reasoned with him and Dean nodded, sorta seeing her point. He was probably just a drifter kid. But that didn’t stop Dean from worrying.  
  
“Yeah… yeah, you’re right,” but Dean couldn’t get the kid out of his head. He just couldn’t.  
  
He couldn’t concentrate on any of his lessons; he kept walking in to people and things. In the end, he decided he’d just feel a million times better and a million times more focused if he just knew that the kid was alright or at least that he’d just left, because he’d just answered his history teacher with “282” an answer he should have given in his maths lesson previous to this one.  
  
He felt better after making his resolve. He even decided to bring some food with him too, just in case. Dean had never been happier to hear the final bell sound in his life.  
  
Sam had to go and “study” with Ruby, so Dean offered them a ride to her place after school and proceeded to embarrass the pair of them by throwing a condom at Sam just after he parked outside Ruby’s. Or more, he proceeded to embarrass Sam and make Ruby wink suggestively at Sam and smirk at Dean, who decided he liked this Ruby chick.  
  
“You got a keeper there, Sammy,” Dean called out to him, sniggering as he drove off.  
  
Dean drove with music blaring, mentally running through all the food that was in the house and deciding what was to take, which made it a lot easier for him to shoot into the house when he parked up, grab what he needed and shoot down the road.  
  
He hovered outside the front door, not really sure whether he should knock or not. He eventually decided that it would be best if he just walked in, because if the guy was a squatter he wasn’t about to welcome Dean with open arms. He pushed the door cautiously, to find it was unlocked. He can’t say he was surprised, it seemed like the lock had rusted away. The house wasn’t exactly well kept.  
  
He stepped in, bag of food in hand looking around the derelict room. The door shut itself behind him and he didn’t want to admit it, but this was starting to seem like the beginning of a shitty horror movie. Dean was expecting to have to look around for the kid, but it seemed that it the time it took Dean to look behind him at the door and back, the kid had snuck into the room and was just walking past him into the kitchen.  
  
Dean watched him walk by, confused. Speaking as a normal person, he’d be a bit freaked if some stranger was in his place of living uninvited, but the kid didn’t even seem to notice Dean. It was like he couldn’t even see him.  
  
“Hey?” Dean ventured, the kid froze for all of a second, before shaking himself and continuing what he was doing. Dean hesitated. What he ignoring him? Just pretending he wasn’t there? “Hey… can you hear me?” He tried again after a considerably pause. He heard the kid sigh softly.  
  
The kid turned around; face down as he went to walk past Dean again, who didn’t know how to react to him. The kid was blatantly ignoring him. Dean watched him walk past and as he was doing so, he hazarded a glance upward, only to see Dean staring at him. The kid froze, standing way too close to Dean for comfort. He looked at him with his head tilted to one side and his brow furrowed. The kid had wicked blue eyes and yeah, he kinda looked like a dream. Like, not in the “woah-he’s-hot” sense (but he totally was) but more in the “he-looks-like-he-should-be-inside-my-head” sense, like he wasn’t exactly there. Like he wasn’t real.  
  
“You were talking to me?” The kid asked stepping closed to Dean, making literally a centimetre between them. Dean shuffled back awkwardly. The kid’s voice was way too deep for his face and it was kind of a turn on. His voice hadn’t sounded this deep that time on the roof, but Dean assumed that the reason for that was because he was shouting.  
  
“Well, there ain’t anyone else here, is there?” He held his gazed while the kid studied him for a few moments before his face spilt into a grin.  
  
“I haven’t spoken to anyone in _years!_ ” Dean knew he was emphasizing, but the way the kid was grinning at him made him wonder. He took another step back, creating an appropriate amount of space between them.   
  
“Uh… Dean,” he said, holding out his hand. The kid just stared at his hand as if he had no idea what Dean was doing. He dropped his hand awkwardly. “Winchester. Dean Winchester.” The kid nodded at him, not saying anything. Dean was ready to just throw the food at him and run, but then he made and “oh” shape with his mouth.  
  
“Castiel Novak,” He said, resuming his manic grinning, the name rang familiar to him, but Dean couldn’t place it, so he ignored it, instead he just held out the bag of food awkwardly.  
  
“I brought you food…” Dean’s voice faded as he saw Castiel’s face drop, his cheerful smile turned into a half scowl within the space of a second.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Well… I thought you were squatting and I thought you might not have enough money for food and… uh, yeah,” Dean finished lamely.  
  
“I don’t need it,” Castiel told him, sounding somewhat angry. “I don’t need charity. I don’t want charity. What? You going put this on your college application? “Helped a squatter,“ right?” He said, doing air quotations around the “right” which made Dean think he didn’t know how to use air quotations, while take several large steps backward.  
  
Dean held up his hands defensively, “hey man, I’m sorry,” he took another step backward, because Castiel was looking like he was going to swing. “I just thought you might be hungry, that’s all…” Castiel was glaring at him, and despite the guy being a few inches shorter than him and not as well toned, in this moment in time, he definitely looked like he could kick Dean’s ass.   
  
“How did you even know I was here?” he snapped at Dean, “how can you even see me?” Dean was slightly baffled by the second question. Surely if he didn’t want to be seen, he wouldn’t go into the backyard shouting profanities at the sky.  
  
“Look, I just hadn’t seen you walking past the any of windows for a while, I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Dean shrugged and looked behind him to eye the door and back to Castiel. “I should go…” he gestured toward the door and began to back away from him slowly.  
  
Castiel looked like he was fighting some sort of internal battle. His head was tilted downward, but Dean could still see his eyes and they were darting about frantically with his mouth slightly open, looking thoroughly distressed. There was probably about five foot between the pair of them when Dean turned around and put his hand on the doorknob. He turned back to nod goodbye to Castiel, but he was stood right in front, wrapping his slim fingers around Deans wrist.  
  
“Don’t go,” he was looking pleadingly at Dean, and damn, the guy’s mood swings were going to give him freaking whiplash. He was definitely a lot stronger than he looked, he could easily keep Dean in his place, “please.” His hands were freezing, literally like ice and now he was actually looking at him, he looked ill, too pale and inexplicably blurry around the edges. Not noticeably so, only if you look real closely, but still. Dean raised he hand and pressed his palm to Castiel’s cheek. Yeah, the guy felt like he’d been living inside ice. The guy felt dead.  
  
“You’re freezing,” he whispered, keeping his palm firmly on his cheek for a full minute. “Shit man,” he yanked his wrist from Castiel’s grip (with some difficulty, until Castiel realized Dean was trying to pull away and let go) and pulled off his coat.   
  
He moved to behind Castiel and wrapped his coat around his shoulders. Castiel turned to him, his eyes wide and shocked. He was looking at his feet, pulling Dean’s coat around himself tighter, out of instinct. Dean began to rub his arms quite harshly, in a futile attempt to warm him up. He looked up at Dean, with his mouth slightly open and his head tilted to the right.  
  
“You’re touching me,” he whispered in awe. “People can’t touch me?” He muttered more to himself. Dean’s face scrunched up in confusion.  
  
“Well, yeah, I-“ He stopped suddenly and dropped his hands, as if thought Castiel had electrocuted him. “You don’t have thing about people touching you, right?” Castiel was staring at him as he shook head.  
  
“No… no. I just- no-one’s touched me in years,” he told him, exaggerating, but again, the way he was looking at Dean was making him doubt it. Castiel’s eyes were back on his feet, his eyes darting around again. Dean saw his hand come up and tug on the lobe of his ear. He looked back up with a burning intensity in his eyes. His huge blue eyes, which the “writer” seniors would describe by using a bunch of over-romanticised adjective. “Um, sit down,” he gestured to a dusty, mouldy, old-looking couch which Dean thought maybe the original owners left behinds. But he took the offer anyway. Castiel followed close behind, gliding soundlessly across the floor in the comparison to Dean’s overly heavy footsteps.  
  
When Dean flopped on the couch, a cloud of dust billowed around them, but when Castiel took a place next to him, he didn’t even make a dent in it. Castiel was watching Dean with such intensity, it was making him nervous. Nervous enough to send a fleeting glance at the door.  
  
“You are Dean Winchester,” Castiel stated at him suddenly. Dean nodded.  
  
“Uh, yeah, and you are Castiel Novak,” Dean stated back to him, somewhat hesitantly.  
  
“Cas. Only my grandparents called me Castiel.”  
  
“Okay, Cas,” Dean tested how the shortened name felt on his tongue. “So, Cas, why’re you here?” he asked him after a considerable silence. Castiel ducked his head and Dean thought he might have been to forward in his questioning. But after a few seconds of an awkward quiet, Castiel answered.  
  
“I can’t leave,” he shrugged at Dean, “it’s my home.” Castiel smiled faintly when he said “home” and it was almost endearing. Almost. “Why’re _you_ here, Dean Winchester?” Dean snorted slightly.  
  
“Okay, firstly, Dean. It’s just Dean. Secondly, I already told you, I’ve been seeing you around the house and I was worried you might be hungry-“ Castiel’s eyes darken, so Dean quickly said “-but, you obviously aren’t and you don’t need the food, so that’s fine. That’s cool.” His eyes went back to normal and Dean exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding.   
  
Castiel nodded at Dean, but didn’t say anything making a semi-awkward silence creep in. Dean began to feel uncomfortable as he realized he was in a complete stranger’s house, sat next to a pretty strange kid on an old couch that actually smelt a bit funky. Dean was about to make a hasty leave until Castiel saw his shirt.  
  
“Black Sabbath,” He nodded at the logo on Dean’s shirt.  
  
“Huh? Oh, yeah. You like Black Sabbath?” Dean raised his eyebrow sceptically. Not that he was a pretentious music fan, but he never found many people in this tiny town who liked them. Castiel was shaking his head at Dean.  
  
“I’m more of a Simon  & Garfunkel kinda guy,” he was smiling fondly at Dean’s shirt as if reliving a fond memory, “but my brother, he loved them.  They were his favourite.”  
  
“Your brother sounds like my kinda guy,” Dean laughed, and just like that, the ice was broken and the conversation flowed mostly easily apart from the few times Dean tried to broach the subject of Castiel’s family or why he was squatting in this house.  
  
They ended up speaking for hours. About music, TV shows (Castiel was strictly into the old stuff), Dean spoke about Sammy, Castiel told him more about Gabriel (He was Castiel’s older brother, and from what Dean could gather they used to be really, really close but now they weren’t, Castiel wouldn’t elaborate more than “we can’t talk anymore”) and books. When Dean asked about the Supernatural books, and Castiel admitted he’d never heard of them (“Man, have you been living under a rock?!”), nor had he ever heard of Coraline, which was why, when Dean was making his way to the front door around 6:15pm, he promised Castiel he’d come back tomorrow with the Supernatural collection, which was totally Sam’s and not his, and Coraline, along with some other Neil Gaiman books.  
  
“Do you promise you’ll come back?” Castiel asked him, the fifth time, since Dean had said he had to go and pick Sam up.   
  
“I promise, Jesus Cas, I’m coming back tomorrow, don’t worry,” Dean smiled from the doorway, “Now, I got to go, I’m _late!_ ” Castiel ducked his head, embarrassed, and smiled at the floor.  
  
“Yeah, okay, I’m sorry. I just haven’t spoken to anyone in a while,” Castiel shrugged.  
  
“I’ll see ya tomorrow, Cas,”  
  
“Yeah, tomorrow,” Castiel reminded him needlessly.  
  
Dean was smiling all the way to Ruby’s. Okay, he didn’t really want to admit it, but yeah, he had a bit of a crush on Castiel, but in his defence, the guy was hot. Dean often got mistaken as one of those ignorant, meat head guys on the sports teams at his schools, but he was an open minded guy. He didn’t really care about gender as long as there was sex involved. Sam had told him that that was “pansexual” but Dean preferred “equal-opportunist-sexual”.   
  
Pansexual made him sound like those emo freshman kids, that went around telling everyone how weird they were and listened to My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy way too much. Dean was eagerly waiting for the day Sam started his emo phase. He managed to mould his face into a neutral expression when Sam got into the car, looking slightly uncomfortable.  
  
“Hey, face-ache, what’s wrong?” Dean asked as they started to pull away.  
  
“I think I’m going to dump Ruby,” Sam said.  
  
“Oh? Why’s that?”  
  
“She’s really aggressive. And I like Jess more,” Dean raised his eyebrow.  
  
“Jess?”  
  
“Yeah, she’s awesome,” Sam got a dreamy look in his eye.  
  
“Why Sam, you little player,” Dean snorted at him, making Sam punch him in the arm.  
  
“Shut _up,_ Dean!”


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two  
  
_ Dean had been going to Castiel’s house – well, Castiel’s squat – every day for a week now and yeah, he was really enjoying Castiel’s company. Admittedly, he’d only agreed to go back out of some form of pity and because of the weird crush he’d developed on Castiel. That and he’d promised Castiel he’d bring he’d some more books to read. He’d blazed through Coraline and American Gods within a day Dean had given them to him and was a quarter way in to the first Supernatural book when Dean saw him the next day.  
  
“I don’t understand Jensen’s deal,” Castiel told him as soon as Dean entered the house, folding the corner of the forth Supernatural book, and looking up at him.  
  
“Huh? Whatta you mean?” Dean asked, while he pulled some H.P. Lovecraft books from his school backpack. Dean had mentioned him the day before and Castiel’s eyes literally lit up as he said he loved H.P. Lovecraft and did Dean have any of his books that he could borrow. When Dean had said yeah, he thought Castiel might combust.  
  
“Well, is he in love with the angel…” Castiel snapped his fingers while he thought of his name, “Misha” he said, finally, “Like, it seems as if though he’s scared to admit his feelings for the other man,” Dean cocked his head at Castiel.  
  
“That’s sorta what I thought, but the seventh book made me rethink it. I think the writer’s been quite clever with his characters,” Dean paused while he thought about how to phrase it. “I think they’ve been written so it makes it obvious that they’re in love, but it never needs to be said, because the writer knows it and so do the characters,” Dean cleared his throat. “They both know they’re in love and they know the feeling is returned and I don’t think either character feels the need to acknowledge that, because they both know, Y’know? They don’t need the reassurance because they’re getting and giving all the reassurance needed by just sticking by each other’s side,” Dean finished, watching Castiel’s reaction.  
  
“Misha doesn’t know how to behave around people properly yet, yes?” Dean nodded, knowing Castiel was referring the forth book, which is when Misha is first introduced, “So even though he already loves Jensen at this point,” he started slowly “he wouldn’t know it yet, because he doesn’t recognise it?” Dean smiled.  
  
“That’s what I assumed,” Dean was nodding at Castiel and taking a seat next to him on the couch. Castiel nodded, smiling slightly.  
  
“Okay,” he paused for a moment “Jensen and Jared remind me of me and my brother. They would do anything for each other, Jensen even went to hell for Jared and Jared tried to do the same for Jensen. Me and Gabe would have done that for each other. We would have died for each other,” Castiel voice caught at the end, and he sounded like he was about to burst into tears. Dean’s caught on to what Castiel meant, but he just had to check.  
  
“Um, Cas, did- is, uh, is Gabriel dead?” Castiel looked at him slowly, he opened and closed his mouth several times, until he mutter something that sounded a lot like:  
  
“Reverse it,” but that couldn’t be right. Dean coughed awkwardly.  
  
“Uh, what?”  
  
“Oh… nothing. No, um, yeah, Gabe’s alive,” Castiel didn’t give any more of an explanation, so Dean was about to prompt him, but it was as if the other boy could read his mind and started to speak before Dean could even open his mouth. “So Misha has some great one-liners…”  
  
***  
  
Dean had known Castiel for two months when Sam finally started to notice his weird behavior. It was three months until Sam decided to approach Dean about it.  
  
"So?" He asked, on Friday night, after Dean returned home at 9:36 and began rooting through the fridge for a microwave meal of some sort.  
  
"So what?" Dean replied, slightly muffled on account of his head being buried deep within the fridge.  
  
"Who are they?"  
  
"Who's who?" Sam sighed as Dean shut the fridge with a microwave curry in his hand. Sam knew what Dean was doing. He was answering in questions. He always did it when he didn't want to tell Sam about something or someone.  
  
"Who's the person you've been going to see every day after work and school?" Dean busied himself by making his meal and made a huge show of putting it in the microwave before finally answering.  
  
"I've been going to see a person every day after school?" Sam rolled him eyes, sighing like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.  
  
"You're doing the thing."  
  
"The thing?"  
  
"Answering questions with questions."   
  
"I don't do that!" And Dean sounded about a million times more offended then was appropriate, making Sam snort at him.  
  
"Oh come on man, stop being such a girl about your secret girl-slash-boyfriend," Dean looked down and sighed unhappily.  
  
"He's not my boyfriend," he admitted to Sam in a quiet voice, because it was damn embarrassing that Dean Winchester - the same Dean Winchester that could lure a nun into the sack - couldn't even _try_ and make a move on the weird squatter kid in the creepy house.   
  
Sam raised his eyebrow in disbelief. Well, actually, it was more mocking disbelief because the kid was a sarcastic little shit - even more so than Dean - and there was nothing he enjoyed more that tormenting Dean even when he was trying to worm some information outta him and vice versa.  
  
"Are you telling me you _can't_ get into this guy’s pants?" He asked with an exaggerated gasp and huge-ass bug eyes.  
  
"Oh, blow me," Dean grouched. He did not need his 14 year old brother rubbing it in his face that he couldn't lure the object of his affections to bed.  
  
***  
  
Sam crept into Dean's room later that night and crawled into the empty side of his double bed, making Dean scoot up and rearrange his starfish-like position and throw him two of the six pillows that Dean hoarded around his head like some sort of bizarre cave.  
  
Maybe Sam was a bit old to do this, but Dean sure as hell wasn't going to stop him. He didn't like the dark, never had. And besides, Dean liked it when Sam came into his room and curled up into a ball under the covers to sleep, not that he'd admit it, but it made him feel safer, even if he couldn't feel him, as least he knew he was there. Sam used to do it when he was really young if he'd had a nightmare or he was just freaked. He's always come to Dean, never their parents. Always Dean. It just felt familiar.  
  
"So," Sam began as he arranged himself on the bed, "what's his name?" He lay on his stomach, face turned to Dean, with his arms crossed and cushioning his head. Dean considered not telling Sam, out plain spite, but decided he was too tired to have Sam nag him.  
  
"Castiel," Dean mumbled, lay on his back with his arm crossed over his eyes. Sam hmmm'd at him.  
  
"Fruity name," he commented.  
  
"Fruity guy too," Dean said back, "he's really weird."  
  
"Weird how?"   
  
"Weird like..." Dean considered it as he turned to face Sam. Like, how was he weird? He um'd and hm'd or a few seconds. "Like, he'd never read or heard of those Supernatural books, or Harry Potter or anything like that. And he speaks and dresses like he's from the 90's, I've known him for like three or four months and he's always wore the same clothes but he never smells weird or looks dirty and he stares. A lot, and," Dean took a breath and sighed "I don't know man; he thought the spice girls were still together. Like, I don't even know how to react to that." Sam was nodding softly, focusing intensely on Dean.  
  
"Yeah, that's definitely a bit weird," Sam paused for a moment "Where doe's he live?" Dean chewed the inside of his lip, not knowing whether he could tell Sam.  
  
"He... Um, he squats at the house at the end of the road," Dean said, figuring it wouldn't do any harm. Sam's eyes bugged out.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
Sam shook his head "maybe he doesn't change his clothes because he's homeless," he pondered, Dean nodded his head in agreement. It was a good point Sam had made, Dean never really called him up on it, because Castiel normally had these wicked-mad mood swings – which were actually kinda unnerving – and it was none of his damn business.  
  
Dean hadn’t really noticed Sam had moved closer to him, until could feel Sam shivering against his arm. He was really cold, Dean noticed. Without say a word, Dean leant over the side of the bed and grabbed the spare quilt he kept there and threw it over them.  
  
“Thanks man,” Sam shivered, whiles snuggling down into the sheets.  
  
“Ain’t a problem, Sammy-boy,” Dean said back.  
  
Dean was nearly asleep when Sam spoke again. “When can I meet Castiel?”  
  
“Hm?” Dean mumbled, sleepily, “I don’t know, tomorrow if you really want,” he continued, not really realizing what he was saying.  
  
“Awesome.”  
  
***  
 _  
_Dean hadn’t even remembered he’d told Sam he could come and meet Castiel today. It had literally just slipped his mind. He’d gone about his day as usual, gotten up at 9:00am, got to the garage for 10:00am, finished at 3:00pm and tutored various freshmen until 6:15pm and began to drive to Castiel’s house, only to see Sam outside when he pulled up.  
  
Now, don’t get Dean wrong, it wasn’t that he didn’t want Sam to meet Castiel, he just didn’t know whether Castiel would want to meet Sam because, well, the only time Dean had seen Castiel outside the house was that one time in his backyard, and once or twice Castiel had said he just couldn’t set foot out of the front door, so Dean assumed that he was agoraphobic or something like that.  
  
“Sam? What’re you doing here?” He asked, with his face scrunched up in confusion. Sam mirrored his expression.  
  
“What? You said I could come and meet Castiel?” He told him.  
  
“I did?” Dean paused while he thought back to last night. It was a fleeting memory and it was barely there before it was gone, but it was there none-the-less. “I did,” he realized, nodding at Sam. “Aw shit,” he mumbled.  
  
“What?”  
  
“It’s just, I don’t know…” Dean shook his head again. “Y’know what? Doesn’t matter. C’mon dude, I’m sure he won’t mind.” Sam nodded and smiled.  
  
They walked up to the house and Dean saw Castiel at the window, staring incredulously, eyes wide and fearful. He looked to Dean and shook his head in a panic and if Castiel could get any paler, he did in those few seconds. Dean went to stop Sam from going in but he was already pushing the door open and walking in.  
  
Castiel stood in the middle of the room, looking like he’d run away from the window so he could hide. Looking like a rabbit in the headlights. Dean stood awkwardly, staring at Castiel apologetically, while Sam began to smile at him and stick his hand out.  
  
“Hey, I’m Sam!” He told him way too enthusiastically. Castiel stared at his hand cautiously, and then looked up at Dean looking thoroughly freaked and while Dean nodded at him softly he wondered when they became the kind of friends that could communicate with facial expressions.  
  
“Castiel Novak,” he told him as he grabbed Sam’s hand and shook it very briefly as he gasped and Dean had a pretty good idea why.  
  
“You’re freezing,” Sam told him and Castiel nodded. He always seemed to be cold. It wasn’t a big deal; it was just one of those things.  
  
“I’ve been told on numerous occasions,” Castiel was smiling slightly in Dean’s direction and Dean felt his face flush because Castiel hardly every smiled and whenever he did, they were always small and somewhat secret, so to have one pointed in his direction made him feel ridiculously fuzzy inside.  
  
“Riiiight,” Sam said, looking curiously at the exchange going on between them.   
  
The conversation kinda dried up there with Sam. They moved over to the couch, with Castiel still sending Sam cautious glances. Sam felt kinda awkward with the two of them, because he could feel the UST bouncing off the walls and hitting him in the face, but they seemed to be completely oblivious to it. They didn’t even seem to notice the flirting between them. Plus, Castiel seemed kinda… see-through, he guessed, but not. Like, it didn’t make sense, so Sam just ignored it.  
  
“Dean, you have something on your face,” Castiel leant over Sam and plucked an eyelash or something from Dean’s face, who seemed to unconsciously lean into his touch. Sam inwardly groaned.  
  
“Don’t touch what you can’t afford, Novak,” Dean teased jokingly at Castiel who flicked the eyelash pointlessly.  
  
“Then you better get off my couch, Winchester,” Castiel teased right back, poking in the stomach. Dean pulled his tongue at him.  
  
“How about you blow me?” Dean shot to him.  
  
“Maybe later,” Castiel shrugged, looking at his nails nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just offered to suck Dean off at some point.   
  
“Woah, hey okay, little brother in the room, let’s keep this PG, yeah?” Sam squirmed between them. Dean and Castiel looked at him as if they’d only just remembered he was here. Castiel smiled at him slightly, his eyes shining way too fondly at him for someone he’d only just met. “You okay, bright-eyes?” Sam asked feeling slightly uncomfortable under Castiel’s piercing gaze.  
  
“I had this boyfriend once, Balthazar,” he began, his eyes now looking off into the distance as if watching some long gone, fond memory. “And Gabe, my brother, walked in on us together,” Sam noticed that Dean was looking at his feet, with and expression that just screamed jealously, “and it didn’t help that he _loathed_ Balth. But anyway, instead of being embarrassed or awkward, he just walked straight back out, then came back about 10 seconds later and dumped a bucket of water over us,” Castiel chuckled quietly. “When I asked him why he’d done it, he said _your room, mouth and asshole is a strictly PG-zone until you’re at least 30,”_ Castiel was still smiling but it seemed to blink away some tears in his eyes, Dean noticed. It seemed every time he brought up his brother, he got a bit weepy or just sad.   
  
Dean had always suspected something seriously bad had happened to Gabriel or something seriously bad had happened between them to make Castiel just up and leave his family. He often thought about questioning him, but he figured it wasn’t his place.  
  
“You have a brother?” Sam asked, his curiosity piqued. He couldn’t fathom why Castiel was here if he had family. He seemed to consider the question for a long while.  
  
“I guess I do,” Castiel mumbled, eventually, casting his eyes downward. “But we haven’t spoken in a while…” he trailed off and looked away, shrugging his shoulders and before Dean could elbow Sam to stop his from asking the thing that was on the tip of his tongue, it spilled from his lips.  
  
“Why?” Castiel’s head snapped up in a manner that was almost violent. Dean felt Sam move slightly closer to him and, unconsciously, Dean put his hand on his shoulder as a reassurance to Sam and somewhat of a warning to Castiel.  
  
“Why?” He whispered, looking Sam straight in the eye. “Why do we do anything? Why we go to school? Why do we love? Why do we hate? Why do we fight? Why are we even here? Why do we get behind the _fucking wheel? Why do people drive when drunk? **Why do we fucking die? Why? That’s the question, right Sam? WHY?!”**_ Throughout this whole speech Sam had moved closer and closer to Dean, to the point where Dean had stood up and placed himself between Sam and Castiel.   
  
As Castiel looked between Sam and Dean with an almost monstrous look in his eye, he seemed to realize what was happening. Watching Castiel lighten and widen from shock was like watching him come down from some sort of demonic possession. He stood up and walked to the door silently.  
  
“I believe you two will want to leave now,” he mumbled, ducking his head, looking suitably shame-faced.  
  
“Yeah, yeah I think so,” Dean glared at Castiel and wondered how the mood in the room could change so quickly.  
  
Dean grabbed Sam and pulled him over to the door, keeping himself between him and Castiel the whole time, as if Castiel was going to pounce on Sam and rip him apart. Dean just didn’t get it. Sure, it was a personal question, but Castiel had told him his brother wasn’t dead, so why the intense reaction?  
  
When they reached the door, Dean turned to Sam and got down to his level (which at this rate, he wouldn’t be able to do much longer, because Sam was shooting up.) “Hey Sammy, I need to talk to Cas, I’ll meet you at home, okay?” Sam looked understandably weary, but nodded none the less. Dean waited until he was out of the houses over-grown garden before he closed the front door and turned his back on it to face Castiel.  
  
“Dude, what the hell?” He kept his voice low and dangerous. Castiel just ducked his head and said nothing. “Dammit, Cas! I’m serious, what the hell was that? Y’know the last person he talked to Sam like that got seven shades of shit kicked out of him?” Dean shook his head angrily and Castiel just kept silent with his face cast downward and if Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say Castiel was crying. “I just… fuck, Cas. You don’t talk to Sam like that, _no-one_ talks to Sam like-“ but Dean was cut off by a pair of (exceedingly cold) lips pressed against his own.  
  
It was really naturally instinct that had him grabbing Castiel’s hips to pull him closer, while Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and tangled one hand into Dean’s hair, pulling him ever closer and pushing him against the door. Dean felt Castiel’s tongue tracing the seam of his lips, seeking entrance which Dean gave only too willingly and, damn, even the guy’s tongue was cold.  
  
Then he was pushing Dean away, with a huge amount of strength that he hadn’t known Castiel possessed. “I… I… I’m sorry. I just- you were- I didn’t- Gah!” He hid his face with his hands “I’m sorry, Dean. You should go,” Castiel pushed him away slightly, to open the door.  
  
“Woah, woah, woah, wait a goddamn minute Cas, you can’t just… I mean, what was that?” Dean asked, staring at Castiel, searching his face for an answer.  
  
“I… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Dean, but I have developed somewhat of a crush on you an-“  
  
“Dude, we’re 18. We’re not teenage girls. If you felt that way, you could haven just said,” Dean cut him off, a slight smile playing across his face, the incident with Sam forgotten for now.  
  
“And if you hadn’t returned my feelings?”   
  
“Well,” Dean felt a slight blush colour his cheeks, talk about frigging teenage girls. “Lucky for you, I do.” Castiel’s eyes were like huge fucking blue planets, staring up at him like all his Christmases had come at once, then within a split second, Castiel’s eyes turned sad.   
  
“Tell Sam I’m sorry,” Castiel mumbled before, out of nowhere, he yanked the door open and pushed Dean out and slammed the door in his face. Dean stood outside and he swore he heard Castiel’s voice apologising to him from behind the door.  
  
Dean walked to his car, sort of dazed, and just sat behind the wheel for a few minutes, thinking, before finally making up his mind on what to do about this whole fucking mess. He pulled his phone from his pocket and got up Ash’s number. Castiel was hiding something. Something big, and if anyone could find out what it was, then Ash could.  
  
 ** _To: Ash  
_** _Dude, can you do me a solid?  
  
_ He didn’t have to wait long for a reply.  
  
 ** _From: Ash  
_** _Sure thing homedawg  
  
 **To: Ash**_  
 _Homedawg? Seriously? Whatever dude.               Anyway I need you to dig up the dirt on a kid called “Castiel Novak”.  
  
 **From: Ash  
** is this the same castiel novak you’ve been crying over for the past few weeks_

Okay, so maybe Dean has been talking about Castiel way too much to his friend for it to be considered innocent, but whatever, that wasn’t important. _  
  
 **To: Ash  
** Shut up. Can you do it or not?  
  
 **From: Ash  
** of course I can im awesome. i’ll have it ready for you tomorrow  
  
 **To: Ash  
** Thanks man, I owe you one.  
  
 **From: Ash  
** aint no thaannngggg  
  
 **To: Ash  
** Seriously? Stop.  
  
_This wasn’t something Dean had wanted to do, but he couldn’t just be left hanging like that, he just couldn’t. He liked Castiel a lot more than he was willing to admit, and he wasn’t going to lose it just because of some bullshit secret that probably wouldn’t even bother Dean at all.  
  
***  
  
Dean was practically vibrating all day, he actually kinda excited to see what Ash had dug up on Castiel. He couldn’t concentrate in any of his lessons, his head was swimming with ideas about Castiel, why he lived alone in a derelict, empty house; who is family was; why he didn’t go to school, because quite frankly, Dean was worried about him. Seriously worried. He’d tried several times to get Castiel to come round to his and stay for at least one night, but he always refused violently.  
  
It was clear to anyone who saw, that something was really dysfunctional in Castiel’s life. Yeah, Dean couldn’t wait until lunch. He did feel bad about nosing in on Castiel’s business behind his back, but Dean was just concerned about him. He worried about Castiel in the same was he worried about Sam. Except, his feelings toward Castiel were a little less than brotherly.  
  
Lunch rolled round after a double period of English, and an excruciatingly painful Math lesson. Dean barrelled to his locker, finding Ash there, with his brow furrowed, looking uncharacteristically worried. “Ash,” Dean stopped beside him, eyeing the folder clutched in his hand.  
  
“Hey man,” Ash looked up at Dean, solemnly. Dean quirked his eyebrow curiously at him.  
  
“There something wrong?” He asked, Ash looked vaguely uncomfortable.  
  
“You tell me, man,” he replied, sighing. Dean felt confused. Whatever Ash had found on Castiel, it couldn’t be good.  
  
“How ‘bout you elaborate, riddle-master?”   
  
“I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, Winchester, but it certainly ain’t Castiel Novak.” Dean pulled a face at him.  
  
“Whatta you mean?” Dean asked, his head tilted slightly and eyes narrowed, something he’s picked up from Castiel. Ash pulled a sheet of paper from the folder and began to read.  
  
“ _Castiel Novak, an 18-year-old promising student, was killed last night in a head on collision with a drunk driver, his older brother, Gabriel, 20-years-old, is currently in hospital in critical, but stable condition.”_  Dean snatched the paper off his, scanning the words himself, but sure enough that’s what it said. But then again, sure enough, in the top corner, that was Castiel’s face smiling at him from the paper. Dean felt his legs buckle to forced himself to stay up right.  
  
This didn’t make a goddamn lick of sense. Not even a fucking crumb of logic. This article was saying that Castiel was dead, but Dean had  _seen_  Castiel pretty much every day for the past few months. Even Sam had seen him. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize when you mentioned him,” Ash said, “I mean, when you mentioned he was squatting in the old Novak place, then said he was called Castiel Novak I don’t know why I didn’t put two and two together. Too much drugs and alcohol, I guess,” Ash finished with a slightly nervous laugh and a small shrug.  
  
Dean made a quiet squeaking sound, “can I, can I take that,” he gestured at the folder.  
  
“Um, sure man, just be careful which homeless nutjobs you befriend in the future, yeah?” Dean nodded at Ash weakly.  
  
“Yeah…” he murmured, “yeah, sure…” he took the folder and began to walk away from Ash without saying goodbye.   
  
When Dean would think back to this moment later, he would have next to no recollection of how he managed to walk on shaking legs to his car, and let alone how he managed to drive his car and arrive safely outside Castiel’s door, Dean would think he drove in silence but he couldn’t be sure. Maybe he even ran a red light or two, but he wouldn’t be able to remember. He would have no recollection at all of how he walked up to the door and opened it. Dean brain felt scrambled.  
  
He stood inside Castiel’s house, looking around it cautiously. Really taking in how empty and not lived in it was. He looked at the dusty floor and noticed it was covered in foot prints, that Dean recognised as his own, and a few as Sam’s but no third pair he could attach to Castiel.  
  
Dean thought back to how Castiel wore the same clothes every single day, how sometimes his seemed to be a foot away then right in front of Dean without moving. He thought back to the few times he had been walking down the garden pathway and he’d look back to the house and within the space of a few seconds, Castiel had made his way up to the attic and was watching him from the attic window.  
  
“Dean?” Castiel was suddenly in front of his, and Dean didn’t know whether Castiel had walked into his eyeline, or just appeared there. “Dean, you’re early? What’re you doing here?” Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times, before stepping back to look Castiel up and down.  
  
He saw how his sides were slightly blurred, undefined, like a smudged painting, something which Dean had noticed when they first met, but hadn’t really paid any heed to. Dean noticed how he seemed ever-so-slightly wispy, solid, but not solid. There, but not there. Real, but not real.   
  
“Dean?” Castiel looked worried. “Are you okay?” He put his hand to Dean’s forehead, and Dean shivered violently. His hand was so cold. Castiel was always cold. The house was always cold even on sweltering days. Castiel was always, always cold. Dean stumbled back, falling against the closed door, his legs barely hold him. He threw the file at Castiel’s feet. He couldn’t remember if he’d read it or not, but he assumed he must have because the folder was torn and crinkled as if Dean had flipped through it continuously at some point. Castiel looked at the folder nervously. “What’s that?” He asked, Dean said nothing for a while. He just stared until Castiel bent down to pick it up (which he seemed to do with far too much concentration and strain) and started to flick through it. His eyes grew wider and he started to look a little sick. “Dean-“  
  
“What  _are_  you?” Dean asked, then his legs did what they’d been resisting since school, and gave out. Dean would like to pretend he didn’t faint, but he totally fainted, because the last thing he remembered before everything went black was Castiel’s concerned face right in front of his, and his icy arms wrapping themselves around Dean’s shoulders and squeezing him tightly. Dean though he heard a voice saying  _okay it’s going to be okay you’re going to be okay it’s all going to be okay_  but Dean just couldn’t be sure.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean woke up on Castiel’s sofa, with his head thrumming feeling like he had the worst hang-over ever. Castiel was stood directly in front of him, watching him intently and sighing in relief when Dean stirred to life. He made to move toward Dean, who pushed himself back onto the sofa.  
  
He hadn’t had a clear head before, he’d actually considered that Castiel was a ghost, but that couldn’t be true, because it ghost weren’t real. Dean sat himself up slowly and looked over to Castiel, shaking his head slightly, then wincing. “Who are you?” he asked quietly. “Why have you been lying to me?” Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, looking confused.  
  
“I’m Castiel Novak,” he said, not attempting to move toward him.  
  
“Stop lying to me, man,” Dean whispered, tired and weary. “Just please stop lying to me.” Castiel stared at him.  
  
“I  _am_  Castiel Novak! Son of Adam and Eve Novak! Brother to Gabriel Novak-”  
  
“You’re not Castiel Novak! Castiel Novak is dead!” Dean snapped angrily, his eyes slitting and glaring.  
  
“Have you even read this folder, Dean?” Castiel bit back, equally as angry. “Have you?” Castiel threw a balled up piece of paper at him. “Go ahead, read that! Or better yet, I’ll recite it shall I?! Because Lord fucking knows I have the damn article memorised from reading it so many times over the years!” Dean opened his mouth, but Castiel didn’t give him chance to speak.  
  
“ _Police are still asking for witnesses to come forward to give evidence for the Novak Boys case. Castiel and Gabriel Novak were driving home after a night in with friends, when a drunk driver plowed into them. 18-year-old Castiel Novak died on impact, but Gabriel Novak was rushed to hospital, in a critical but stable condition._ _  
 _Last week, Gabriel was said to be recovering well, and soon after, released a statement saying “I didn’t just lose my brother a few weeks ago, I also lost my best friend, my partner in crime, my sympathizer. I am not asking for a lot, I am just asking for some justice. Castiel was a bright kid with an even brighter future, that was cruelly taken away from him. Doesn’t he deserve justice?”__  Castiel stopped and looked at Dean, who was following Castiel’s words on the paper, and carrying on, reading the remainder of the article.   
  
“Look at the picture.” Castiel told him when he finished it. “That’s me and Gabe. In the picture I have my arm around Gabe’s shoulders, I have a cigarette in my mouth, Gabe had a beer in his hand and he’s blowing at the end of my cigarette.” Dean looked down to the photo and cringed, because that was definitely Castiel. His brother looked familiar to Dean too, but he couldn’t place his face, so he just figured his brother just had one of those faces. “D’you wanna know how I know that?” Castiel paused. “Because I have the exact same article upstairs, a newspaper that got left behind when my family moved out of this house. I have the original goddamn photo, all crinkled and torn because Gabe screwed it up into a damn ball when the guy who killed me got 8 years. He never went back into my room after that. Never. My room is exactly how it was when they left here 17 years ago. All my posters are still on the wall, my books are on the shelf, my fucking bed has an  _inch_  thick layer of dust on it because I’ll be damned if I can fucking move it.” One of the light bulb shattered as Castiel got angrier. “D’you wanna know something else?! That wasn’t Gabe’s original statement. They had to fucking paraphrase, because Gabriel said  _you don’t ask me for a fucking statement! It isn’t just my little fucking brother that’s dead, it’s my fucking best friend, my fucking partner in crime, the only fucking person in the whole fucking world who’d put up with all my bullshit! You don’t ask me to release a fucking statement, because you should be out there doing your job and finding the fucking asshole who killed my baby brother! He was fucking 18 man! He’d just gotten accepted into fucking Harvard! He was going to be a fucking doctor! He didn’t fucking deserve this! Get the fuck away from me! Get the fuck out of my fucking room!”_ Castiel shook his head, sadly. “Wanna know how I know that?” he asked, quieter now, calmer. “After I died, Gabe carried my favourite ring everywhere, and I guess I’m connected to it, because I went everywhere with him. It was given to him the second he woke up in the hospital. And then the day they moved out, he just took it off and left it on the floor in his room. I managed to move it to my room. I guess he just thought he needed to let go. I’ve not been able to leave this house since.”  
  
Dean stared at him, all logic and reasoning flying out of the window. He felt lighted head again, because that was Castiel in the picture. Castiel was dead. Dean was talking to a dead person. Dean was fucking nuts.  
  
“I… I…” Dean didn’t know what to say. The silence filled the room until: “why can I see you?” he whispered. “Why can Sammy see you?” Castiel faltered and sighed heavily.  
  
“I don’t know. I think as a general rule, people can only see ghost if the ghost lets them and only if the ghost is strong enough to let them. I let Sam see me, but I certainly didn’t let you see me. I don’t know what happened.” Dean nodded softly. “Do you believe me?” Dean nodded again.  
  
“Yeah, yeah I do.” He whispered. “It’s just… a lot to handle.” Castiel sat down next to him and Dean felt the cold instantly.  
  
“How do you think I felt?” Castiel asked, Dean could hear the small, sad smile in his voice. “One minute I’m laughing with Gabe, and the next I’m fucking screaming at a doctor, trying to tell him I’m still alive, that I’m right there.” Castiel snorted. “It was fucking weird man.”  
  
“Dying?” Dean asked.  
  
“Yeah, everything was black then white, and hot then cold, and quiet then loud, all at the same time, y’know? And not the normal type. It was like pitch black, really, really fucking black and my skin felt like it was burning off, like I’d been dipped in lava, and it deafeningly quiet. Then burn your fucking eyes out white, and it was like I’d been dipped in fucking nitrogen, and there was this awful screeching nose, I thought my ears were bleeding… then it all stopped, there was this door and they told me I have things to finish and then I was stood in the hospital.” Dean looked faintly sick. He swallowed slightly.  
  
“Who said you have stuff to finish?”  
  
“They did,” Castiel replied simply. Dean decided not to push it.  
  
They sat in silence for a while after that. The world was carrying on outside, but in here, time felt frozen. It felt as if though they were in their own private world, and for all Dean cared, they might as well have been. His whole belief system was crashing down, everything he knew seemed wrong. If ghost were real, what else was? Vampires? Werewolfs? Dean just didn’t know what to think anymore.  
  
“Hey Cas,” Dean whispered, turning to face him, “what did you do in the 17 years you were alone? What happens to you when I’m not here?” Castiel considered this for a moment.  
  
“I was angry. I was really angry for 17 year. I’d shout, knock things over, I get drifters in here all the time, but they never stayed long. Apparently, my throwing things at them wasn’t pleasant,” Castiel snorted softly. “Time stretched on forever. I look back to it now, when I’m with you and I wonder how I didn’t fade away like so many others…” Castiel shook his head. “I think it’s because I was so angry… I had so much resentment built up, anger that was bubbling under my skin… god it was awful… and then, you came into my ...afterlife, bringing life, and new books, and interesting stories, and laughter and so much happiness, the anger just faded away, and sure, I still feel it sometimes – like with Sam yesterday – but it goes pretty quick and then, when you’re not here… it’s like I just disappear, like I’m not really here at all, because I’m just waiting for you to come back, to fill me up with life and happiness again. I just feel like I disappear when you go-“ Dean kissed him then, because it was too hard listening to him speak any more.   
  
“What… if you never had to be alone again?” Dean whispered against his lips.  
  
“What do you mean?” Castiel asked, resting his head against Dean’s forehead.  
  
“What if I put on your ring?” Dean asked, “you wouldn’t have to be alone then…” Castiel shot back and stared at Dean. If he had a working heart, it’d be thumping.  
  
“Dean…” Castiel whispered softly. “I can’t…”  
  
“Why not?” Dean grabbed onto his icy hands.   
  
“I’m scared,” Castiel looked down at their inter-twined hands. “I don’t want to leave just yet...”  
  
“What do you mean by just yet?” Dean asked, squeezing his hands.  
  
“I mean…” Castiel began, “give me a month, please Dean? Just one month, ask me again in one month…” Dean stared at Castiel, he was sure he had his own reasonings for staying another month alone, but Dean just didn’t understand why. He wanted to question it, and dig deeper, but look where digging had gotten him so far.  
  
“Okay. One month,” Dean agreed. “I’ll ask you again in one month.”  
  
***  
  
Sam was waiting for Dean when he got home, he hasn’t realised it had gotten so late. Sam, being the little brother he was, had covered for Dean being so late home, but expected the whole story from him for his efforts. Which Dean was only too happy to provide him with.  
  
Naturally Sam hadn’t believed anything Dean had said, until he showed him the articles. Dean wasn’t sure why he didn’t try and lie to Sam, but he knew that he would have forced the truth out of him, and Dean figured, better sooner than later. Dean had told Sam the whole story pretty much, minus the kiss, because, while Dean wasn’t shy about his conquests, or who he was dating (regardless of gender), he just wanted to keep this to himself for a little while. Plus, while Dean, nor Sam, didn’t give two shits about gender, Sam might have something to say about a human/spectral relationship.  
  
Sam sat on Dean’s bed, staring into space, biting his lip as if trying to puzzle out what was going on. “So dead, huh?” He asked, Dean nodded and Sam whistled. “Wow.”  
  
“Wow indeed.”  
  
“So what happens now?” Sam looked to Dean with wide eyes.  
  
“I have no idea.” Dean answered him honestly, shaking his head. “I really have no idea, Sammy.”  
  
***  
  
All in all, it had been a pretty normal month considering. Dean went to school with Sam as always, ate lunch with his friends (he didn’t bring up Castiel and neither did Ash), took Sam home - unless he was in detention or something - then he went to see Castiel. Then at weekends, he went to work at Bobby’s, then he did his physics tutoring. After that, he’d go and see Castiel for an hour or two, and went home. Mary Complained about him working too hard, John complained about him hardly ever being home. Yeah, it was pretty normal.  
  
Neither Dean, nor Castiel really spoke about Castiel’s… affliction, simply because it was easier to ignore. In fact, the only time they spoke about it was when Castiel felt it was appropriate to make a joke about and when they kissed for a third time, and things started to get kinda heavy.  
  
“How is this going to work, Dean?” Castiel asked, pulling away from Dean, who was squirming under Castiel, with an obvious neglected boner.  
  
“This? I would have thought you’d know, Cas. You just sorta wrap your hand - or mouth if that’s what you want - around it and-“  
  
“That’s not what I meant and you know it, Winchester!” Dean sighed and let his head fall back on to the sofa’s armrest.  
  
“Jesus, Cas, I don’t know! I’m kinda new to your world,” Dean sighed, pulling himself up. Castiel moved off his lap and sat facing him, Dean let out a whiny groan at the loss of contact. “I mean, I don’t even know if your… type-“  
  
“Type?” Castiel asked with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk.  
  
“Shut up, you know what I meant,” Dean smiled slightly, hitting Castiel on the arm. “Like I was saying, I don’t even know if your _type_ can still get it up,” Dean continued with extra emphasis on the word type. Castiel snorted loudly, so loud in fact that Dean jumped out of his skin.  
  
“Dean, I’ve been a horny 18-year-old for the past 18 years. Trust me, _my type_ can still get it up.” Dean flinched slightly at his words, as he was still trying to get use to the whole undead thing. “And anyway, I wasn’t talking about sex or anything like that. I was talking about an actual honest-to-god relationship. We can have a normal one, because well, like I said, 18 for the past 18 years. And you’re kinda the only person who can see me. It’d be exhausting to show myself to every person we walked past…” Dean thought about Castiel’s words. First and foremost, Castiel was his friend - possibly his best friend - that came before anything else. But it did seem that Castiel was his boyfriend now. His dead boyfriend. His dead, ghost boyfriend. Oh god, Dean had a headache.  
  
“How about we just wing it?” Dean suggested weakly. “No pun intended.” Castiel huffed a small laugh.  
  
“I’m dead, Dean. Not an angel.” Then Castiel sighed unhappily.   
  
“I suppose we’ll have to, won’t we?” Dean shrugged, then nodded, then shrugged again. They sat in a contemplating silence for a few seconds until Dean threw a sly glance to Castiel, and smirked to himself. He pressed the palm of his hand to his crotch and poked Castiel with his foot, who looked up at Dean. Dean bit into his lip softly.  
  
“Hey Cas, how do you feel about watching?” For a brief moment, Castiel looked confused, then his eyes saw where Dean’s hands were, and his breath hitched in this throat.  
  
“Shit…” he breathed out.  
  
“I’m guessing that means only good things,” Dean laughed, before pushing his hand down and moaning. Castiel sucked in a deep breath and watched Dean with hungry eyes.  
  
“Oh it definitely only means good things,” Castiel smirked.  
  
That was the only time they mentioned it.  
  
***  
  
They grew closer and closer every day. Castiel was more willing to talk about his family now. He told Dean all about Gabriel, and how he got almost got kicked out of school three times for some of shit he pulled. Castiel told him he once replaced the school swimming pool with Jello. To this day, he still has no idea how Gabriel pulled that off. Dean was in stitches throughout most of the stories.  
  
He told Dean about his parents, and about how religious they were, but they denounced their religion 18-years-ago. Dean could guess why. Castiel’s parents were both Doctors, and, according to Castiel, his parents were both in the night of the crash. His father was the one to announce Castiel dead and his mother was the one to stitch Gabriel up. As doctors, this was a normal Friday night, as parents, it was a fucking nightmare. But they had to do their jobs, as they were the only ones available at the time. It was really a huge fucking cruel twist of fate that Castiel’s parents couldn’t worry about their sons and had to look at them as simply patients, while one  of them pronounce their youngest dead, and one of them had to stabilized their oldest and hope he made it through the night.   
  
Dean told Castiel about his mom’s parents and how they were murdered before Dean was born, and how he was named after his grandma, and Sam was named after their grandpa. He also told him that according to his dad, his grandpa was a dick, and it was a wonder that his mom turned out so great, considering that when she was younger she was dragged all around the country by her parents and she never stayed in one place too long.  
  
He also told him about the fire in in home when he was four and Sam was six months old. He told him that is damn-near killed his mom, even at the hospital they didn’t think she was gunna make it, because of the burns on her stomach, back and thighs and the amount of smoke she’d inhaled. He confined in Castiel that the fire wasn’t an accident, and that some guy his mom knew in high school called Azazel had been stalking her for years and tried to kill her when she told him she’d never leave John for him. Throughout the court case he’d consistently insist that Sam was his son and that Dean’s mom was lying and wouldn’t let Azazel see Sam, then that led to a court-mandated DNA test. Obviously Sam wasn’t his son, but it had really messed things up with his parents for a while.  
  
Sam came round a few times as well, he spoke cautiously the first time after Dean told him about Castiel, but Castiel had told him to “stop treating him like he was dying.” Dean felt like he should have laughed, but he wasn’t sure. Sam had treated him like a normal person after that. Although, Dean noticed that after Sam left, Castiel seemed to fade and look exhausted, even though he didn’t sleep. When Dean asked, Castiel said showing himself to Sam took it out of him. It was only possible because Sam was still young, and still optimistic. If Sam were family, Castiel told him, it would have been impossible. Dean had asked why he could see him, Castiel had replied simply with “I wish I knew.”  
  
Dean’s routine was the same for a whole month.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, it'll be updated every tuesday, so stay tuned!
> 
> Any con-crit is welcome!


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